I figured it out.
I haven’t pooped since Thursday morning because I’m full of shit.
Maybe if I make a new video about how I’m full of shit? Maybe then? Because the herbal cleanse, aloe juice, gallons of water, high veggie diet thing is clearly not working.
I am so full of shit.
Now I know.
Now YOU know.
I’m so sorry. And so full of shit.
Jason Bateman in his latest movie.
It’s not that bad, but not especially SFW.
Like Ron said, I just cain’t.
GOOD. GRAVY.
Or as Toni, Dan, and their Three Musketeers would say:
BUTT GRAVY.
For Toni’s Makearoo Full of Shit thing.
for Toni’s awesome thing.
I was a little freaked by the cost because I come from a family of people who really just want to pay for gas and maybe a little bit of food when they travel. Fees and hotel and food too? For just me and without my family? What am I a Rockefeller?
But I kept playing over the way for the past five years I’ve been circling around a bunch of ideas, inching closer and closer to the crux of them, but the reality always staying just slightly out of reach. And the truth is I can afford it, but I decided that I wanted to pay for it through a separate income stream if possible.
This morning a client I haven’t worked with in a while asked if I could take on a fast project. It will pay for the event and then some. I almost didn’t catch it, and weighed whether or not I wanted to take on any extra work right now. But then it all clicked into place and I had to laugh.
Camp Makearoo happens the week after my 45th birthday. I’m so excited to be kicking off my new year this way, and so excited to be supporting Toni’s launch of her incredible idea. This is too cool.
First, let me just say that I really love Toni because I wrote an excellent birthday post and Tumblr, the rancid ho, ate the whole thing without sharing a bite with anybody.
So, let’s try this again.
Lord love a duck, this woman. She is the bombdiggity.
I first met Toni back in 2003 when we were both part of an online writing group for women. I’m convinced this group was started for the sole purpose of bringing a few spectacular women into my orbit. Toni is one of the brightest lights, and I finally had the pleasure of laughing, chugging beer, stuffing my face, burping, making dick jokes, lifting a cheek and ricochet farting with her in person in July 2010. Joining Toni and the rest of the fabulous FRED dames was definitely a highlight of that summer, and I’m still full of regret that I only stayed the one night. (Stoopid work. Stoopid family. Stoopid responsibility.) I know those beautiful bitches had too much fun without me.
Toni, you’ve always been incredibly supportive of so many people, and it’s amazing to watch all of the support that you’ve graciously and hilariously sent out into the world unfold into a true map of work-life for you. You’re truly on the path, but even moreso, you’re truly there. Over the last year I’ve watched you express more and more yes in each present moment , and find the yes buried deep inside the shit sandwich that life continues to serve for lunch. You never say, oh, this isn’t a shit sandwich, la-di-da-di-do, let’s just pretend this doesn’t taste like shit while we choke it down. You say, what the everloving fuck with this shit sandwich again? And then you say, hey, I dug into this steaming pile and look at what I found. This little nugget of truth. Here, let me share it with you.
And how beautifully you share it – with words and pictures and yes, always with the poop jokes.
Really, dude. Happy fucking birthday. You are such a gift.
I love you.
As I’m gaining a better sense of how I spend my time and the goals I’d like to achieve, I’m watching non-necessities fall away like dander from that cat you’ve always loathed.
I keep comparing writing to starting a lifestyle change: That first run is brutal. Adding up what you eat on a normal day is as eye-opening as it is depressing. You’re sore that first week, and tired, and wondering what in the hell you’re doing to yourself and how much longer you can keep it up. But then a week passes, and then another, and things start to feel less arduous and more natural. You start to see progress, feel more fluid, and notice changes in how you look and feel. Lacing up your shoes signals that it’s time to dig in and work. Now when I sit down at my desk, turn off the Internetty distractions, and cue up the music, my brain is starting to get it: time to dig in and work.
It comes down to this: Every day I climb into bed without taking action toward my dearly held dreams, is another day I failed to take action toward my dearly held dreams.
I have reached the point where I simply refuse to build up an entire lifetime’s worth of non-achievement. This means sacrifice, it means sweat, it means ‘wah, wah, why meeee,’ it means doing stuff I don’t love or even like, and it means occasional joy and fun and cool stuff, too. It means a lot of shitty things and a lot of great things, but with any luck, there will be things with a healthy great-to-shitty ratio at the finish line. The days of climbing into bed feeling defeated and waking up berating myself are shrinking in quantity and, not coincidentally, so are the piles of bullshit in my life.
Time to dig in and work.
I’d love to hear more about how you squeeze it in with the kids, and work, meals, laundry, and exercise, and groceries, and time with Dan, and time with friends, etc. Is it a first thing in the morning thing? Have you had to set clear boundaries with the family? Do they respect your writing time?
I’m so impressed with the way you’re putting your head down and getting to work and am trying to get there myself, but am still stuck in the place of beating myself up for not trying hard enough. Thanks for sharing your thoughts about it all, your words are so inspiring.
